


Slight Return

by Rheanna



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief, Parent Death, Post-Movie(s), storymatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheanna/pseuds/Rheanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The house in San Francisco had rarely been used, even before the death of Spock's mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slight Return

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed ficlet, from the prompt "mother's necklace". The title is from an instrumental piece by Woodpigeon, 'A Slight Return Home'.

The house in San Francisco had rarely been used, even before the death of Spock's mother. He had not understood why his mother had maintained the property when she spent so little time there. The majority of her time had been divided between the home she shared with Sarek on Vulcan and the travel which was part of her academic work. When she was on Earth, it was usually more convenient to stay in a hotel than open up the Grayson family home for the sake of just a few days.

"It would be logical to sell the house," Spock had pointed out to her once. He and his mother had been sharing tea in the tiny Earth-garden Amanda maintained at their home on Vulcan. Spock had been due to leave to take up his position at Starfleet Academy within days. He had not expected to return for a long time; as he sat in the peacefulness of his mother's garden, he could not have anticipated what the circumstances of that eventual return would be.

"I suppose it would," his mother said. "Tell me, Spock, why do you think I don't?"

Spock considered this. His mother often challenged him to understand the emotional determinants of her decisions. On this occasion, however, he failed to see what emotional factors might be influencing her, and so he fell back on logic.

"Perhaps you anticipate returning to live on Earth in the future?" he hazarded. It seemed highly unlikely, but he could see no other reason for retaining the house, if not to use it as a dwelling at some point.

But his mother shook her head. "No. My life is here, on Vulcan. I grew up in that house, but I won't be going back there."

Spock said, "Then I do not understand."

His mother smiled gently. "That house has been in my family for three generations. My parents left it to me, and I intend to leave it to you." She got up and walked over to him, offering him her hand for the Vulcan _ka-tre-ni'l_. He lifted his own hand in response and brushed his fingertips against hers in the traditional Vulcan expression of intimacy, experiencing through the touch the light brush of his mother's consciousness against his own. "Whatever path you decide to take in life, Spock, you'll always have a home to return to on Vulcan. But I want you to have one on Earth, too."

And now his mother is gone, and six billion Vulcans and the world that gave his race life, and the house in San Francisco belongs to Spock.

"What are you going to do with it?" Nyota asks.

"As a Starfleet officer, I have no need for a permanent residence on any world," Spock says. "I will make a final visit to remove any of my mother's remaining personal effects and then sell the property."

Nyota purses her lips and doesn't reply immediately. Spock senses that she disapproves, although he does not logically see why she would. But she doesn't voice her objections, whatever they are. Instead she only says, "Do you want me to come with you?"

The house is large. Spock's task will be faster with someone else to help him. "Your assistance would be welcome," he tells her. "Thank you."

It's easy, for once, to get permission to take shore leave, as the Enterprise is docked in Earth orbit, preparing to depart on a lengthy deep-space exploration mission, and all crew members have been strongly encouraged to use their full leave entitlement while they can. Use of matter transportation technology is regulated on Earth, but there are certain perks to being in Starfleet, so Spock and Nyota are able to beam directly into the garden of his mother's house.

"Oh," Nyota says. Her face lights up into a wide smile of surprised delight: "Spock, it's beautiful."

Spock cannot disagree that the house is architecturally pleasing, its design both balanced and graceful. Balanced and graceful: it occurs to him that these words were both accurate descriptors of his mother, too.

"The house was designed and built by my mother's grandfather. He was an architect. My mother told me once that this house was… I believe the expression is 'a labor of love'."

The garden is neatly kept, and not overgrown at all: his mother had employed a gardening service, which her estate has continued to pay for. Roses twine upward, their soft yellow petals familiar to Spock from his mother's irrigated Earth-garden on Vulcan. The Vulcan specimens had probably started as cuttings from these plants.

Inside, the house is equally tidy, with tiny low-grade forcefield generators clipped on to the rugs and drapes to repel dust. A security 'bot trundles up to Spock and Nyota as they pause in the entrance hall and scans them, before deciding that they match its list of persons authorized to enter the house. It trundles away again, satisfied.

"What can I do?" Nyota asks.

"Look in the rooms downstairs and assemble any personal items you find: holos, old photographs, and so on."

She nods. "Okay. Is there anything else you want me to look for? I mean -- ornaments, things like that. Those can be personal, too."

Spock considers that. "I trust your judgment," he says finally. "I will be upstairs if you need to ask me about any specific item."

He climbs the stairs, leaving Nyota to start her task in the open-plan living space on the ground floor.

The upstairs of the house is divided into a number of bedrooms and bathrooms, as well as a long, thin room which enjoys a surfeit of light thanks to the windows which run along almost its entire length. The room is not wide enough to be suitable as a bedroom, and Spock wonders what purposes it has served to the generations of Graysons who have lived here: a study, perhaps, or an artist's studio, or children's playroom. He wonders if his mother played in this room as a girl, or if she came here seeking solitude to read as a young woman.

The room is empty of furniture, except for a stack of boxes at its far end. Spock flips open the lid of the top one and looks inside. It is filled with layers of folded clothing, and smells faintly musty. His mother's belongings, then, but probably dating from before her marriage to his father. Clearly there is nothing here which she considered important enough to take with her to Vulcan. These items can be disposed of, Spock decides.

Something tucked in at the edge of the box catches his eye.

He lifts out several items of clothing and retrieves the item underneath. It is a small box, padded with fabric which is now fraying at the corners. He opens it. There is a necklace inside.

He can see at once that it is not a valuable piece: the mellow gold-orange of the amber pendant glows attractively in the sunlight, but the necklace has few aesthetic qualities beyond that. And, logically, if the pendant had been highly valued by his mother for any reason, she would have taken it with her to Vulcan, and not left it packed away in a box in an empty house on Earth, forgotten for decades.

And yet, to discard it would be to discard something which his mother had prized enough to keep, even if her reasons for doing so are now permanently lost. It is illogical, Spock thinks, to invest an inanimate object with emotional significance, and yet equally it seems logical to him to prize that which is rare by virtue of its rarity. This cheap amber pendant is a rare thing, a tangible link to Amanda Grayson, teacher, wife of Sarek, mother of Spock.

Nyota's voice breaks in on his thoughts. "That's pretty."

He did not hear her enter the room. Strange, when his hearing is usually so acute. He holds up the pendant for her to see. "I believe it belonged to my mother."

"Then I guess you'll want to keep it," Nyota says.

"My mother knew she would never live in this house," Spock says. "Nevertheless, she wanted to know that it was here. That return was possible." He stops. "Vulcan is gone. I have chosen to serve in Starfleet, and I will never live here. And yet…" He stops, unable to say something so manifestly illogical out loud.

Nyota, as ever, comes to his rescue. "You want to know return is possible."

He nods, and holds out the amber pendant to her. In Vulcan, he says, "I entreat thee to accept this gift in honor of my kin."

"I accept and honor thy kin," Nyota answers. Switching to Standard, she adds, "Thank you."

Spock raises his hand to her in the gesture of _ka-tre-ni'l_. When their fingertips brush, he feels her consciousness touch his, offering to him in turn her gifts of balance and grace.


End file.
